


Flicker

by yeaka



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 19:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11812683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Cloud crosses paths with Leon in the locker room.





	Flicker

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Set during and based solely on KH1.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Kingdom Hearts or Final Fantasy or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

When the one thing that makes Cloud’s life bearable finally retires, Cloud knows it’s time to quit. Hades would have him stay, fight an endless stream of Heartless—never mind that they’re Hades’ own minions. But Cloud’s had enough fighting for one day—something he never thought he’d think—and he excuses himself as soon as the coliseum’s empty again. When he’s slashed the last shadowed figure into nothing, he marches for the stands before more can swirl in out of nothing. He’s had enough ‘practice.’ He climbs towards the locker room, currently hidden behind bars. The amenities here aren’t much, but they’ll do. All he needs is to splash a little water on his face and take off some of the heavy accessories that have him sweating. And to see the man that already left, of course.

He tries to be subtle as he ducks into the dark room beyond. The place is as yellow-orange as outside, dusty and stone, with cubbyholes to store weapons and flat benches to rest on. Most of the people that fight in the coliseum now aren’t really _people_ at all, and it’s rare for this room to hold anyone. Right now, it’s just him and Leon.

Leon stands with his back to Cloud, facing the shelf where he’s placed his jacket, and Cloud watches in deliberate silence as Leon strips his white shirt off afterwards. He ruffles his brown hair as he pulls it off, the long spikes matted and sweat-slicked. Cloud still wants to run his fingers through it, glove-free. Leon’s gloves are already off. He pulls his silver chain over his head afterwards, depositing it atop the folded clothes, and Cloud’s breath hitches as Leon snaps off his belt.

His fingers hook in the waistband of his black pants, and the next thing Cloud knows, he’s eyeing Leon’s naked ass, hungrier than he’s ever felt. He _stares_ as Leon steps out of the fabric one leg at a time, each occasion flexing his taut rear. The tight cheeks dimple as he straightens. There’s a towel in the cubby next to his clothes, and Cloud wills Leon to toss that over his shoulder, but instead, he wraps it around his waist. Cloud stifles an internal curse, even though he’s already seen more than he has any right to. 

Leon finally turns, likely about to head off to the showers, but he spots Cloud first and cocks a grin of greeting, lifting one hand. Cloud weakly returns it. Leon doesn’t look particularly surprised, and given his aptitude for following his opponent on the battlefield, Cloud suddenly realizes there’s a very good chance that Leon heard him come in and knew he was watching from the start.

Cloud keeps his eyes on Leon’s anyway. It isn’t hard, even though Leon’s chiseled chest is a broad, tempting expanse of sun-kissed skin, because Leon’s face is just as handsome, even with the long scar down the middle. If the towel weren’t there, eye contact would be considerably harder. 

Ideas flash through Cloud’s mind. He moves towards his own cubbyhole, knowing he could benefit from a shower just as much. Or he could lunge across the small space, shove Leon into the shelves, and devour him whole. It’d be easier if Leon were the one to start it. Cloud’s never been good at these things. But he gets the feeling Leon’s not the best with people either, and he walks off before Cloud gets a chance to break the silence. 

He didn’t invite Cloud to join him.

But he didn’t tell Cloud to wait until he was finished, either. 

And Cloud’s not supposed to have any of this, because he’s supposed to be on a mission, and none of it’s supposed to be _fun_.

He falls heavily to the bench, worn out more from his own internal battles than any physical one. And he tries to work out what he’ll do, while steam begins to waft into the room and the sound of the water calls to him, the thought of _Leon_ a siren’s song that claws at his jaded heart.

He surrenders.


End file.
